The Bravery of Being out of Range
by AnotherSongAnotherMile
Summary: It was supposed to be a simple mission, but surviving helicopter crashes and drug cartel bosses hell-bent on murdering you never gets easier. Mac and Riley centric. (Reposted).
1. Chapter 1

It should have been a simple mission.

It would have been Jack's dream mission—setting up surveillance in a couple's retreat in the mountains. And as much as Matty would have loved to oblige Jack by sending him away for an extended weekend, the age difference between the only female operative in their group and the man practically old enough to be her father (and, in an awkward way, basically _was_ her father) was a little too big to really sell.

Bozer probably wouldn't have minded either, if it weren't for his pre-planned top-secret weekend with his new super-secret spy girlfriend. He hadn't seen her in weeks now—not that he should've been seeing her at all, but when the opportunity presented itself he couldn't say no.

So that left Mac and Riley—similar in age, similar in intelligence, and just, well, _believable_ as a couple.

Not much to either MacGyver or Riley's surprise, neither of them minded the idea of unwinding for the weekend in an all-inclusive resort while being payed to do so.

They would take a helicopter up to a fancy resort in the secluded Canadian wilderness which featured fishing, hiking, wine tasting, zip lining, and _canoodling._ Mac had already decided a little PDA with Riley, although a bit awkward to think about, was probably necessary. Not that they hadn't posed as a couple before, but when Matty brought up "selling their relationship," both parties found themselves blushing a little at the idea. A little cuddling on the resort's lobby couch during the busiest part of the day, Mac decided, would suffice in authenticating their relationship while not making things too awkward with his friend and co-worker.

Mac smiled that morning when he met Riley at the airport to board their chopper. She had a backpack slung over her shoulder and her laptop case in hand and was practically bouncing. He had been on so many of these ops—they had always paired him with Nikki—that it was hardly exciting anymore, but he found the young woman's enthusiasm infectious.

"You act as if you've never been in the mountains before," he said to her with a grin, taking her pack from her to relieve her of its' weight, but not daring ask her to hand over her precious rig. Matty had assigned Riley with the cover of workaholic web page designer as to sell the idea of her constantly having the laptop with her. Mac would set up small cameras and mics throughout key parts of the resort to hopefully capture illegal trading activity.

"Not like this, Mac," she said, her eyes widening. "This is pretty much a vacation, sitting around sipping champagne—maybe in the hot tub—and monitoring my rig every once in a while."

"Make that sparkling cider," he said with a chuckle. "Pretty sure Matty wouldn't like us getting tipsy while on an op."

"Whatever," Riley said, rolling her eyes. "It's still basically a vacation."

Mac smiled while feeling a bit nervous about how relaxed she seemed about the situation. Sure, it wouldn't be the hardest mission they'd ever been sent to do, and he knew Riley was professional enough to take this task seriously, but he knew even missions that seemed this straight-forward oftentimes proved themselves not to be so. He hated to kill her spirit, but he also needed to bring Riley back to reality. He hated the idea of the woman he'd come to care about as much as a family member bringing her guard down long enough to get herself injured. Or worse.

And so, when the pilot finished the safety check, Mac gripped Riley's elbow, causing her to turn and face at him.

"Riley, just remember that this is still an op and we're dealing with dangerous people here. I plan and hope on making it through this weekend by avoiding any confrontation and gathering enough information for the authorities to lead in an arrest," he told the woman, a serious look in his eyes. "But at the end of the day, these are still drug traffickers and I don't want you finding yourself alone with one of them."

Riley nodded in understanding as the helicopter's pilot motioned them to board.

* * *

"Now look at that view," Clyde, their pilot, told the couple through his headset as the flew over a valley and took in the scenery around them-trees for as far as the eye could see, mountains in the distance, and a sparkling lake of crystal clear water. After growing up in one of the less impressive parts of LA, Riley was certain this was heaven.

"My grandpa used the fish that lake every summer when we came up here," he told Riley as she continued to stare out the window in awe.

"I've never been fishing," she admitted sheepishly. "Wasn't one of Elwood's favorite activities."

"We'll add it to our to-do list," her promised with a grin, relaxing as he took in the view around him. Mac had to admit that, after the hectic year he'd had, this trip really seemed to hit the spot. He was thankful to be sharing it with someone who seemed to appreciate it just as much—if not more—than he did.

Mac relaxed back in his seat, taking Riley's hand into his own and giving it a friendly squeeze, causing her to glance away from the view surrounding them long enough to exchange a smile with him. He turned his attention back to the valley blow them, two figures in a clearing catching his attention. Hikers, presumably. It was the ideal time of the year for such an activity.

Mac took the binoculars that sat on the seat between himself and Riley, focusing on the pair.

Angus MacGyver had never been one to use profanity, but when he realized what one of the men held in his hands, he cursed loudly, causing Riley to look towards him in alarm.

There was no time to address the confusion he met in her expression as he quickly leaned forward to shield her body with his own.

And there was no time to comfort her when she buried her face into his chest as flames descended upon the helicopter and the aircraft jolted violently, sending them spiraling uncontrollably downward into the valley below.


	2. Chapter 2

Years of dealing with explosive devices did not prepare Mac for the helicopter's violent decent through the canopy of trees below them. Fire enveloped the helicopter as it jerked to the side. He held tightly onto Riley as she muffled a scream into his jacket. Lights blinked, alarms sounded, and pieces of twisted metal and shattered glass rained down on the back of his jacket as Mac tried his best to brace himself and Riley for impact.

The aircraft twisted and turned as it collided through the treetops below, slowing its descent before it crashed with a violent thud that tore Riley from his grip and left what remained of the helicopter twisted and dangling precariously from the thick branches of a splintered tree.

Mac, who had squeezed his eyes shut during the last moments of the crash, slowly opened his eyelids when he realized they were no longer falling and that, miraculously, he was still alive.

The man attempted to regain his bearings, but the smell of burning parts and leaking fluids overwhelmed his senses as he tried to decipher exactly how the chopper had landed. The heavy weight draped across the right side of his body and the sideways orientation of the three trunks in front of them alerted him that the helicopter had landed on its' left side. Mac moved quickly to remove the weight that confined him, quickly realizing that that weight was Riley.

Her body was lifeless, and her unruly black hair was draped over her face, sticking to her head with blood that seeped heavily through a cut that started right at her hairline.

"Riley?"

"Riley!"

"C'mon, Riley, we need to get out of here," he pleaded with the unconscious young woman as smoke continued to fill the cabin of the helicopter. She was still and so uncharacteristically silent that it was difficult to tell if she was still breathing.

If she was even still alive…

Panicked, Mac decided there was no time left for more unsuccessful attempts at rousing the young woman. He reached across her, unbuckling her safety belt and capturing her weight fully in his arms. Spotting his weekend bag tangled in the twisted metal of the broken chopper, he quickly snagged it and tossed it over his shoulder before unbuckling is own safety belt. His only means of support now taken away, he dropped out of the destroyed aircraft, halfway catching Riley in his arms as they both landed roughly onto the forest floor.

 _Please still be alive._

He half-carried, half-drug the dark-haired woman away from the burning helicopter as quickly as his aching body would allow. The feeling of her warm, shallow breaths across his neck as her head bobbed against his shoulder caused him to heave a sigh of relief. When he had made his way out of the smoke, Mac lifted Riley up into his arms, limping quickly away from the wreckage.

Mac deposited Riley gently onto the ground before turning back to the aircraft.

 _Clyde._

Mac could still see the unconscious 60-something army vet entangled in the wreckage as the fire around him burned on with fury. He quickly began making his way back to the helicopter when a powerful _whoosh_ completely engulfed the wreckage and everything in it with massive flames that rose up past the tree line.

Mac slunk down to the ground, punching it hard before burying is head into his hands.

* * *

A pair of heavy boots stomped angrily through the halls of the Phoenix Foundation and into the war room where Matilda Webber and a member of the IT department—Jack was pretty sure her name was Janis—stared at an aerial map on the large screen in front of them. A large red X marked the spot where the helicopter carrying Mac and Riley had presumably crashed.

"What do you mean their chopper just went down, Matty!" Jack roared, "Well-maintained helicopters flown by seasoned pilots don't _just go down._ "

Jack had been indulging in a cold brew and a movie— _Unbreakable_ , notably not one Bruce Willis's finer performances, but he still liked to break it out of the collection from time to time—when he'd gotten the call that Mac and Riley's helicopter had crashed. No distress call, no engine failure. It was if the thing had just stopped midair and went plummeting to the ground.

"Jill narrowed down their possible location and I have a search party headed towards that area right now, Jack," Matty began. "I don't know what happened. The flight had been going fine when the helicopter completely dropped off the radar."

"But we know that it crashed?" Jack asked, pulling is hand down over his face in anguish and sinking into an armchair behind him. "It's a remote part of Canada…maybe they just lost contact."

Matty shook her head, looking dejected.

"A conservation officer in the area spotted smoke," Jill informed him. "And they would have made it to the resort by now."

"Alright," Jack said, sighing heavily and standing up from his seat. "Then we know what happens next. I'm getting my things and I'm going up there myself. Now."

"Jack," the director standing in front of him began. "We have the best recovery team B.C. has to offer on this along with a highly-trained medical team ready to assess injuries. They're keeping us updated on their progress every step of the way. Besides, by the time you've gotten there, the search team will have probably already locat-"

"These are my _kids,_ Matty!" Jack yelled, the agony in his expression matching the hopelessness Matty was feeling over the situation. For once in his life, Jack Dalton had no problem speaking defiantly against the very intimidating Matilda Webber. "Something else is going on here! And I can't just sit back and wait and hope that just _maybe_ they'll find them alive," his voice broke as he finished, the idea of losing either one of the young agents too overwhelming bear.

Jill and Matty exchanged a glance.

"Then we're going with you," Matty said, picking up her phone. "Wheels up in 30, Dalton."


	3. Chapter 3

MacGyver watched in horror as the flames engulfed the entire aircraft.

He could've saved Clyde. Everything had happened so quickly, and he had been so distraught over Riley's condition that he had all but forgotten about their pilot. If he had been thinking more clearly, if he would've moved a little more quickly, then he could've had both the pilot and Riley off in time to save them both.

Now he watched helplessly as their pilot burned to death before him in a raging inferno impossible to stop.

Mac felt like he was going to be sick.

Badly shaken and overcome with guilt, he crawled back to where Riley still lay on the ground. Dwelling on what he could have done differently was not going to help her and he needed to work quickly.

Mac gently pushed the hair out of Riley's face, cupping her cheek in his hand.

"Riley? C'mon, can you hear me?"

He received no response but given the fact that she had just dropped 20 feet from a helicopter before being drug another 80 without being roused, he knew that she most likely would be out for a while.

With a sigh, Mac rifled through his pack, hoping to come up with something useful to help her. Thankfully, he had the swiss army knife Jack had given him still tucked away in his pocket. His other pocket held his now-busted cell phone, not that he was likely to get great reception here. He pulled a clean plaid flannel shirt from the bag before using his knife to cut it into strips. It would have to do as a bandage; he hadn't had time to grab the chopper's first aid kit.

At the bottom of his bag he found a bar of soap, toothpaste, deodorant, a razor, a half-empty bottle of water that was only meant to keep him hydrated on the helicopter ride, and a bottle of aftershave. He pulled out the aftershave and unscrewed the lid. Being mostly alcohol, it would definitely sting if Riley were awake, but would also work nicely as an antiseptic. He soaked the fabric scrap and gently pressed it against the wound on Riley's head. The cut was still bleeding badly, as head wounds always did, but he managed to clean it up well enough to bandage. Mac felt relieved when he could see the cut was not as deep as he initially feared. Some medical-grade glue would've come in handy right now, but he was running out of time and resources.

After he had wrapped strips of fabric around Riley's head to stop the bleeding, he gave her a quick once-over. It was hard to decipher if there were any more injuries beyond the one she had sustained to her forehead. The way they had been jostled around during the crash caused him to worry about stress to her neck or back, and he had no way to know for sure whether she had sustained any damage to her spinal cord. The thought made him reluctant to move her, not that he had had much of a choice in the matter when he had dragged her from the chopper.

There was also the fear that she had sustained internal damage. Mac grasped the hem of Riley's shirt, lifting it only enough to inspect the trunk of her body. There were a few scrapes and some moderate bruising where the seatbelts restrained her on her torso, which was to be expected, but Mac felt confident that there was most likely no internal bleeding. He ran his hands over her legs and arms, checking for any protrusions or swelling. He didn't find anything alarming, but she'd be lucky if she hadn't sustained at least a fracture from the wreck.

Mac quickly inspected himself—his left calf was had been burned, and his wrist was slightly swollen. Deciding that tending to either of his injuries could wait for now, he scooped his supplies back into his backpack. He was about to lift Riley back into his arms when he noticed something white half-buried in the leaves a few feet away—Riley's headset. He remembered it falling off as he pulled her from the wreckage. Mac was unsure whether it would come in handy later or not but stuck it in his bag anyway.

"Alright, Ri," he told the young woman. "Let's get you out of here."

Mac carried her in silence, trying to put distance between himself and the wreckage as quickly as possible. He could only hope that Riley would wake up soon, not only because he was worried about her condition, but also because he had never felt so alone. At least when things went south on other missions he had Jack. Jack would always say something inappropriate, or ridiculous, that oddly enough always seemed to put Mac's worries at ease.

He wondered what Jack was doing right then—if he'd found out about the wreck or not. Anytime Riley was in trouble, Jack was a mess. He couldn't even imagine how worried the older man would be when he found out, and Mac had no intention of letting him worry any longer than absolutely necessary.

* * *

Riley drifted in and out of consciousness for the next two hours. Her first memory: Mac looming over her, softly cupping her cheek. There were moments when he spoke softly, asking her if she was okay. Others hurt as he disinfected her wounds with something that smelled overpowering and stung. When she did finally awaken for good, she was staring at the determined look on his face as he carried her through the forest.

Mac's attention turned back to Riley when he felt her hand twist into the front of his shirt and he looked down to see that she had finally opened her eyes.

"Mac?" she rasped out in a tired voice.

He forced a reassuring grin but felt genuinely relieved to see her awake.

"Have a good nap?" he asked her, and she frowned in confusion. He walked a bit more before finding a good resting spot.

"You think you can sit up okay?" Mac asked Riley as he placed her on the ground and she nodded before slumping against him. He gave her a moment to fully wake up, pulling the water bottle from his bag and handing it to her. After a few sips, she was sitting up on her own as he kneeled before her.

"What hurts?" he asked her.

"My head," Riley winced, reaching up to touch the piece of fabric she now realized she was wearing as a headband, Mac quickly intercepting her hand to stop her before holding it in his own.

"Ah…don't. It took me long enough to stop the bleeding. How are you feeling? Dizzy? Nauseous?" he asked, staring into her eyes closely as if he were looking for something.

"Yes…and yes," she answered, bring the rim of the bottle back to her lips.

He grimaced. "I think you probably have a concussion."

"Super."

"Pain anywhere else?"

She frowned. "My shoulder really hurts. Not as badly as my head, but pretty bad."

"Probably hit it when we crashed," he mumbled, frustrated. How the hell was he supposed to fix a broken shoulder? "Can I see?"

Riley nodded as he leaned behind her and pulled back the collar on the back of her shirt to see a dark bruise that covered her right shoulder.

"Clyde?" she asked as he inspected her shoulder, almost too afraid to ask.

Mac's hand stilled on her bare skin.

"I didn't get to him in time," he told her, his voice tight.

Riley felt the blood drain from her face. The man she was with just hours ago—the one she had joked and chatted with before boarding the helicopter that morning—was dead. Clyde had had no way of knowing that the flight would be his last.

"His grandson was turning seven next week," she said softly, and Mac couldn't help but feel overcome with guilt.

After forcing her to go through the range of movements, Mac decided that it was most likely only badly bruised. He sat back and sighed.

"I can make you a sling," he offered when he realized there wasn't much else he could do for the pain. Riley was hurt, but she wouldn't have much time to rest. They needed to start moving again as soon as possible.

"What about you?" she asked him. "I could tell that you were limping. How badly are you hurt?"

"A bit of a burn on my leg," he answered, "and a sprained wrist…if I'm lucky."

"Did you clean and dress that yet?" she asked him, motioning towards his singed pantleg. He shook his head.

"Didn't have time."

"You dressed mine."

"That's different."

"No," Riley sighed. "It's not. Here," she told him, holding her hand out. Leave it to Mac to always put himself last. "Let me."

Mac sat back as he watched her roll up his pantleg to assess the burn.

"This looks awful," she told him.

Mac declined against letting Riley clean it—burns and alcohol just didn't mix, and they barely had enough water the way it was.

He frowned when he watched Riley struggle with the simple task of wrapping his leg, summing it up with exhaustion the effects of her concussion. He finally took the bandage from her, finishing wrapping the wound himself.

"Mac?" she asked him as she watched him secure the fabric.

"Hmm?" He was so incredibly tired from the crash and carrying Riley that right now all he wanted to do was sit and rest for a while but he wouldn't get the chance to.

"Why didn't we just sit tight and wait for help? Surely someone had to have known our helicopter went down. Radar would have alerted them of the location of the crash. Now we're out in the middle of a forest. How are they supposed to find us here?"

When Mac didn't answer right away, she looked up.

"Riley…" he began. "Do you remember what happened?"

She frowned. "The helicopter crashed?"

"It wasn't an accident, Ri. We were shot down."

" _What?"_ she asked him, exasperated. "By who? And with _what_?"

"With what? A black-market rocket launcher by the looks of it," he said with a sarcastic chuckle. How had this trip gone to hell so quickly? What happened to sparkling wine and long soaks in the hot tub? "Who? I'm not sure. All I know is that I saw two guys aim what looked like a homemade weapon of war at us and the next thing I know we were spiraling out of control. That's why I had to leave the crash site. That's why we must keep moving. There was no putting out the fire after we went down. Whoever shot us down most likely saw the smoke and then went directly to the crash site to make sure we were dead, and now that they know we're not, they're going to keep looking for us."

Riley's face paled. She felt anxiety wash over her. Her head still throbbed, her body still ached, and the world spun around her. It wasn't bad enough that she felt like death, but now she and Mac had some psychopath hell-bent on murdering them following them through the forest.

"I think I'm going to be sick," she moaned, crawling away from Mac and—sure enough—heaving onto the forest floor. Tears streamed down her face as she brought up the contents of her stomach. And then Mac was there, rubbing her back and whispering encouraging words.

"Why would someone shoot our helicopter down?" she asked him, her voice wavering once her stomach had settled a bit.

"I know this is scary—I'd be lying right now if I said I wasn't scared—but it's going to be okay, Riley," he promised as the girl quickly wiped her tears away with the sleeves of her shirt. Riley was usually so confident, and Mac hated seeing her feeling so unsure.

"What are we going to do?" she asked, sniffling a bit.

Mac sat back, thinking. "For now? We keep moving and put as much distance between ourselves and these guys as possible. Then we try to get somewhere where we can communicate and call for help. It's going to be hard to do when we're stuck in this valley with nothing but two busted cell phones." He sighed, looking up.

Getting your helicopter shot down never gets any easier, he thought to himself.

* * *

Jack paced the small but busy Vancouver airport that Mac and Riley had chartered their helicopter from earlier that morning as he waited for Matty to make arrangements for a taxi to take them to police headquarters. There they would monitor the situation and, hopefully, meet up with Mac and Riley once the rescue team had found them.

 _They're fine. They're fine. They've been through worse._

Matty spoke quietly on her cell phone as Jill watched Jack nervously. She didn't know him well—he really didn't know her at all—but it was easy to see how much Jack had cared about both Mac and Riley from the beginning. They were his family.

Matty soon returned, a solemn look on her face that stopped Jack in his tracks.

"You got news," he simply stated, and Matty nodded.

"The search team found the chopper," she began as Jack stared at her, fearing for the worst. "They…" she shook her head as if she couldn't continue.

"What is it?"

"They found badly burned human remains in the chopper and no signs of survivors."

Shocked, Jack stumbled back as Jill caught his shoulders and guided him to a seat.

"That's all I know. The call got disconnected before I was given more details on the situation. I'm so sorry Jack," her voice wavered.

"No," he buried his face into his hands as Jill continued to grip his shoulder. "No…"

Matilda Webber had given bad news dozens of times over her career, but this was the first time she'd felt like crying herself.


	4. Chapter 4

Mac spent most of the day making his way through the wilderness with Riley more slowly than he would have liked. Between her head injury and his badly-burned leg, they hadn't made very good time, but had succeeded at avoiding their pursuers.

Mac had finally decided that heading in the direction of the resort would probably be the best choice in trying to find a clear enough signal to contact help with _if_ he and Riley managed to fix the cell phones. If that failed, well…he hadn't thought that far ahead.

During that time, he found himself increasingly concerned about Riley. She was still dizzy, having a hard time walking, and—at times—just didn't seem to be acting like herself. She had also thrown up twice more during their journey, which was more than a little concerning considering that she hadn't eaten anything since well before their arrival at the airport.

As daylight faded away and night began to fall, Mac didn't have much of a choice but to rest. They could not navigate in the pitch dark and it was unlikely that they were being pursued at such an hour. The men following them would most obviously need to rest as well.

He and Riley had a seat as he rifled through his backpack for the remainder of water they had left. They had rationed it carefully that day, Mac taking only taking a few of sips but urging Riley to drink more. Riley getting sick from dehydration wasn't going to help her condition any.

"Mac," she began, as she took a small drink of what was left of their water supply, shaking the bottle slightly and realizing there wasn't much left in the bottom of the aluminum bottle. "We're almost out."

"We'll find more tomorrow," he promised her.

"Is that safe?" she asked. "Just drinking unfiltered water out here?"

"No," he replied, reaching towards the bottom of his bag and snagging a small pouch of pistachios he'd picked up at the airport. "We'll have to boil it first. The water here is free of pollutants, but not viruses and bacteria."

Mac ripped into the bag, holding it out towards Riley. The pistachios wouldn't hold them over for long, especially with as much hiking as they'd had to do, but he was thankful that he had chosen a protein-packed snack versus the chocolate bar that he'd really wanted.

Riley shook her head. "I'm not feeling like I'd be able to keep those down."

Mac dumped half a handful into his palm and stored the rest away. He'd have to get Riley to eat eventually, but for now rest would probably benefit her more than anything. Mac cracked open the shells and ate the nuts slowly, looking up and realizing Riley was hugging herself now that the temperature had dropped as the sun went down.

"You took your jacket off in the helicopter," he realized, beginning to shrug off his own when she reached out to stop him.

"No. Stop it," she demanded.

"Stop what?"

"Putting yourself before me. I'm not taking your jacket."

"But you're cold."

"And you're not? You wear that jacket every day. _In_ _L_. _A_. Don't tell me that you won't be cold if you take that off."

"C'mon, Ri. Let me be a gentleman."

She gave him a defiant look.

Mac shook his head with a laugh, pulling the jacket back up onto his shoulders before reaching into his bag and drawing out a dark blue sweater. "This doesn't count," he told her. "I had no intention of wearing it."

"I can see why," Riley replied with a frown as she accepted the frumpy-looking sweater.

"Hey now," he began. "That's one of my favorites. Perfect for the mountains."

"We're going to have to have a serious talk about your fashion choices if this is really what you'd pick to wear on a legit romantic getaway with an _actual_ girlfriend."

"Nikki liked it."

The young woman laughed as she gently pulled the well-worn garment over her head.

Glad to see her laughing again, Mac smiled as he felt some of the stress of the day melt away. He heaved a sigh of exhaustion as he looked up at the stars twinkling through the trees above. The dark was foreboding, he had to admit, but being able to enjoy beauty of the night sky without it being washed out by the city lights almost made up for it.

"Sorry that I couldn't start a fire," he said. "Too much of a chance of them seeing it at night."

"It's okay," Riley replied, pulling the sleeves of the sweater down over her hands before snuggling into it. "I wonder what Jack's doing right now."

"Worrying about you, of course," Mac replied, still staring up at the sky. "I hate that he has to worry."

"He's just as worried about you," Riley told Mac, sidling up next to him and staring up.

"Nah," Mac replied, glancing at Riley as she crossed her legs and rested her hands on her knees, leaning against him slightly. "I was an EOD tech when we met. We were in the military together—danger lurking behind every corner. We got used to it." He looked back down as the girl shook her head, laughing.

"You really have no idea how much you mean to him."

Mac frowned. "We're friends. Partners…"

"You're like a little brother…maybe even a son to him. You haven't seen how much he worries. When El Noche took you. When you left for Europe without telling anyone. When you disappeared, and he was so sure that it was Murdoc," she told him. "Out of all the places Jack could've gone, all the jobs he could've taken, he chose to watch out for you."

Mac was silent. He'd never thought about it. He'd always summed Jack's protectiveness up to him just doing the job of being his bodyguard. All this time Mac had spent looking for his dad, always wondering if his father ever thought about him, ever worried or even cared, Jack had been there doing just that. Jack was the one constant in Mac's life after his grandpa had died, the one person he knew would always be there. Mac wasn't sure if Riley had any idea how much her words impacted him.

"We should get some sleep," Mac finally told her as he bunched up his backpack to use as a pillow.

The night air was cold, and it was only going to get cooler. With no sleeping bag, no fire, and no shelter, there wouldn't be much to keep them warm. Mac shrugged off his jacket, and before Riley could protest, laid down on his makeshift pillow and motioned for her to join him.

"No complaints because we're sharing," he insisted.

It was growing darker now, but Mac was certain the girl was grinning and rolling her eyes at the same time as she lay down next to him and pillowed her head on his chest. Mac covered the two of them with his jacket before wrapping and arm beneath her shoulder. He already felt warmer.

Turned out, cuddling with Riley didn't have to be romantic or awkward.

Mac took solace in the fact he had managed to make it through the day and keep his friend safe. Tomorrow would only offer more challenges and uncertainty, and Mac had made it his mission to get Riley back home to Jack safe as quickly as possible. They and Bozer were the only family he had left, and he wasn't letting them down.

"Mac…thank you. For everything you've done for me today," she told him with a yawn.

Mac smiled as her fingers played with the front of his shirt.

"Anytime," he told her, his hand coming down to rest on her own.

* * *

"You still haven't managed to contact them?" Jack asked with irritation as Matty hung up her phone and took a seat with a sigh. The time spent waiting at the police station for the search team to update them with more information had been agonizing. "Matty, it's been hours. What's going on?"

"I wish I knew."

The day had been the worst one Jack had ever experienced—finding out his friends had been in a fiery helicopter crash, the search team recovering a body, and then losing all contact with said search team as he waited to find out what in the hell was going on.

Jack didn't want to believe they were gone. Even after Matty had told him not to get his hopes up because they both knew the information they'd been given gave little to no hope, Jack would not let himself believe that either Mac or Riley were dead.

Because they _couldn't_ be. The two were much too smart to _not_ find a way out of this.

"I thought they were supposed to keep us updated," he complained. "'We found a burned-up chopper' doesn't exactly answer all of our questions."

Jill typed away at her computer as she listened to the two bicker. She was good with computers, but she was no Riley. It frustrated her that she hadn't been able to help since that morning when she narrowed down the location of the chopper.

"I don't know, Jack. They're in a valley. Maybe they're not picking up the signal."

Jack plopped down in the chair opposite Matty's, kicked his feet out, and sighed.

"So now you're gonna tell me we're just gonna sit back and wait," Jack said with a groan. Jack was so sick of waiting. He just wanted answers, even if that meant the news was bad. Not knowing what had happened to Mac and Riley was killing him. "Because it'd be dumb to put together our own search team when one's already recovered the wreckage."

Jack still had a terrible feeling about the entire situation.

"No," Matty replied, picking her phone back up and beginning to dial. "Now I'm going to say go get some rest, you two, and be ready to go first thing in the morning."


	5. Chapter 5

The night was a restless one for MacGyver. He spent most of the evening awake and paranoid that the men who had shot his and Riley's helicopter down would find them in the night and murder them both. He hadn't come across any indications that they were being followed, but it was hard to believe someone who went through the trouble of buying a rocket launcher on the black market would give up that easily. It would have been much too easy for the men to follow the smoke from the wreckage and find out the passengers had made it out alive. If they had other tech, like infrared or night vision, finding them would not be a problem.

That thought caused him to tense at every sound that was made in the forest that night.

If the thought that they were being hunted down during the night wasn't enough, the dread of what he would do the next day to keep them safe and healthy also plagued them. They were almost out of water and food, had no shelter, and both himself and Riley had sustained injuries that could escalate into something much worse if they didn't seek medical attention soon.

Mac tried not to think about the ache of burned flesh on his calf, or the way the makeshift bandage he had used to wrap it now stuck hopelessly to the puss seeping from his wound. And he tried not to worry about the extent of Riley's head injury or the complications that could arise from a serious concussion.

She was easily one of the smartest people he'd ever met, the thought of her sustaining irreversible brain damage was putting him on the brink of an anxiety attack.

The night seemed to go on forever.

The ground beneath Mac was also cold and itchy, and the bag where he rested his head lumpy and flat. Thankfully, Riley seemed to make it through the night well enough, sometimes sleeping so soundly that Mac reached to her neck to feel for a pulse. He knew he was overreacting, but he was terrified of something happening to her.

It was sometime in the early morning hours, not long after Mac had somehow finally managed to drift off to sleep, when Riley awakened him while having a bad dream. Her body twitching and tensing as she slept caused his eyes to snap open in alarm, but Mac had had enough bad dreams about missions gone wrong to quickly realize what was happening.

"Riley," he said the young woman's name groggily. "Riley, it's okay."

She was shuddering against his body with no response. He gently grabbed her hands and held them in his own. The sun hadn't yet fully rose, and her glazed eyes met his through the dimness.

"Hey, it's okay," he soothed. "Was just a bad dream. You're safe; you're with me."

Riley stared back at him for a moment, confused.

"What happened?" she asked in a strained voice.

"Just a nightmare," he assured her, rubbing her upper arm in an effort to comfort her. Her muscles were rigid, her body tense. He could only imagine the horrors she must have been dreaming to awaken like this.

"I had a nightmare?"

Mac pulled away, giving her a worried look.

"Are you feeling okay?"

She stared at him, dazed.

"Riley?"

He tilted his head, trying to meet her gaze. Riley brought her hand up to her forehead, wincing as if she had forgotten about the wound she had sustained the previous day before quickly pulling it away. She frowned.

"Y-yeah…" she finally managed to stammer out. "I uh…I guess I'm just…" she squeezed her eyes closed, her face looking pained. Mac didn't like that look at all. "…tired…" she finished.

Mac sat up, staring at her. He may have been smart, but he was no doctor and had no way of determining the severity of her head injury or deciphering if her present behavior was a symptom of something more serious or not. Even if he could, he'd have no real way to treat it—not in the middle of nowhere with no supplies. The most he could do was get them both out of there and contact help as quickly as possible.

Mac urged Riley to drink what little was left in their water bottle. He then took the time to check and clean the cut on her forehead along with a few of the deeper ones she had gotten from the crash. Most of them had already scabbed over and didn't show any signs of infection, and he was thankful for that.

After Mac had given her a once-over, Riley pulled his sweater back on over her head. She accepted his hand when he reached out to help steady her as she rose up from the ground. He didn't like the fact that she still seemed to be so wobbly on her feet.

"I know we didn't get much rest, but I think we should get moving," he told her as he swung his bag over his shoulder.

Riley nodded in agreement, but still appeared to feel queasy and exhausted.

Mac _hated_ making her travel like this. He would have to push her to move faster today if they wanted to make good time. Between his leg and her concussion, surely their pursuers weren't too far behind.

They still moved slow. The good news was that Mac managed to find a water source later that afternoon—a small stream a good distance from where they had camped their previous night.

It took awhile to get a small fire started, and even longer to bring the water in his aluminum water bottle to a boil, but it was one less thing he'd have to worry about for now.

Mac smothered their fire quickly, realizing that his 40-ounce water bottle wouldn't last either of them long. Once the water had cooled to a tepid temperature, he let Riley drink thirstily before taking a small sip himself. He was parched but resisted the urge to guzzle more. Mac shook out a small handful of pistachios, pushing them into Riley's palm.

"You need to eat," he insisted, and she begrudgingly obliged.

"Better than roots and grubs," she acknowledged, cracking a nut open.

"Yeah, well don't write either of those off too quickly," he said with a sigh, cracking a few nuts himself. He felt tired and worn out, but not particularly hungry. Neither of them would make it much further without the energy, however.

They rested awhile. Mac's burned leg was now throbbing in pain from their trek through the forest, and he could tell by the way Riley was squinting that her headache had come back full force. They had moved more quickly today but had paid the price with their aching bodies.

Mac had begun to roll his pantleg up to check on his burns when he heard voices.

Riley seemed oblivious at first, but Mac picked up on them immediately. He quickly kicked debris over the scorched area on the forest floor before grabbing his water bottle. Riley looked up at him questioningly as he gripped her by the arm before pulling her away from the stream.

"Mac, wh-?" she began as he pulled her down next to himself behind the trunk of a giant Dutch elm before quickly clasping his hand over her mouth. He tugged the girl against him, silently immobilizing her. It only took a second for her to catch on.

"¡Por aquí!" a voice rang out through the forest. "¡ sigan el río!"

"Él hizo este fuego," one said as they came to a stop near the stream.

Mac squeezed his eyes shut. His pulse raced, and he tried to steady his breathing while simultaneously attempting to calm a very shaken Riley as the voices gradually grew louder. The men were literally 50 feet from where they sat. He could hear the twigs and leaves crunch beneath the men's feet and smell their cigars burning as they inspected the area where he and Riley had just been sitting. Riley trembled in terror as they slowly edged closer to their hiding spot.

Even though he'd doused the fire and haphazardly attempted to cover its remnants, the evidence they'd left behind was obvious.

"El Noche lo quiere muerto," one of the mean said roughly to the other.

Riley tensed at the man's words.

Mac grimaced, his heart thumping wildly against his chest. That was the _last_ name he had wanted to hear right now, despite what he had told El Noche in the penitentiary only a few months earlier. He couldn't face these men here—not when he was also putting Riley in harm's way. He felt bile rise from his stomach when he thought of what these men would have in store for them. Noches' men would not make their deaths quick or easy.

He had to think fast. One of the men was carrying an assault rifle—Mac wouldn't stand a chance against the automatic weapon with only a swiss army knife and a few toiletries. Their hiding spot was weak—it was only a matter of minutes before the men discovered them. Maybe if he put up a big enough fight when gave himself up, it would distract them enough for Riley to hide herself the foliage and they wouldn't realize that she was even with him. Unlikely, he thought, but he had to do _something._ He wouldn't allow them both to die this way without a fighting chance.

Mac leaned forward, ready to move, but Riley gripped urgently onto his jacket sleeves, effectively stopping him.

"Se ha ido ahora," the first man said, and Riley glared at Mac as she nodded her head towards the men's direction as they continued downstream.

"They're leaving," she hissed.

Mac swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing at the thought of what he had just done—he'd almost gotten them both killed.

Riley's hands still clung tightly to Mac's clothing as he leaned back, exhausted yet relieved, against the tree behind them. He nodded towards her gratefully as she stared at him in shock over what he had just attempted to do.

They stayed that way until long after the voices had disappeared into the forest.

* * *

Jack sighed as he stared at the roomful or rejects around him: A spindly 30-something man with Coke bottle glasses typed away at his laptop with slender fingers as a young woman with bright blue spikes of hair and giant ear spools took inventory of her medical kit. A middle-aged man with a waist-length curly red ponytail and feathers tied around his neck balanced what looked like a beaver-chewed walking stick on his hand.

"Matty," he began through gritted teeth, "If the first team we had was 'British Columbia's best,' then who the _hell_ are these people?"

Matty looked at their new search and rescue team with a sigh. "Unfortunately for us, our only hope."

Jack snarled.

"Jack Dalton," Matty finally began, acknowledging the three additional people in the room. "Meet our pilot—Matthew 'Smitty' Smith, a software engineer that just graduated flight school with flying colors," she announced, motioning towards the nerd on the other side of the room who was waving eagerly in their direction.

Jack winced.

"And Norma Martinez, formerly a physician's assistant at Sacred Heart Memorial."

"And what do you do now, Norma?" Jack asked hesitantly.

"Between jobs actually," the young woman responded, nonchalantly playing with her nose ring.

"But you still have your license, right?"

"Technically," she agreed.

"Fabulous," Jack muttered under his breath. "And I suppose you're our tracker," he went on, motioning towards the old hippy in front of him smoking a strawberry-flavored e-cig. The man nodded. "The name's Shadow Hawk."

Jack suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.

"Oh, this is one hell of a team we've got here, _Webber_."

They were all doomed.

 **A/N: A big apology to anyone who speaks fluent Spanish and doesn't have to use google translate like I do.**


End file.
